


When Home Is Home No Longer

by DKNC



Series: Would That You Were Mine [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 10:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1344403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DKNC/pseuds/DKNC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This sequel to "One Moment. Forever." was written in response to a prompt on tumblr and takes place over a year after that story ends as Ned Stark returns to Winterfell for the first time since leaving nearly two years before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Home Is Home No Longer

As Ned Stark’s horse trotted through the gate into Winterfell, he had to catch his breath. Everything looked the same. He felt almost as if he’d only ridden out for the day, returning at sunset instead of having been gone for nearly two years. No one had been waiting to greet him. He hadn’t told them he was coming. The courtyard was nearly deserted as the last rays of light were disappearing. He’d forgotten just how long summer days in the north truly lasted. Winter had just been giving way to spring when he’d left.

 _I can breathe here,_ he thought, in spite of the tightness in his chest when he thought of the woman he both longed desperately and feared terribly to see. In spite of the child about whom he could not ask the one question that burned in his heart. He had no right to ask that question. These thoughts had haunted him all through the long journey, but even so he could not deny he had felt more himself once he passed Moat Cailin than he had in all the long moons in King’s Landing and other parts south, riding about doing Robert’s business.

 _I belong in the North,_ he thought sadly as he dismounted from his horse. _I am at home nowhere else, and yet this is the one place I cannot remain._

He looked up to see Ser Rodrik hurrying toward him, and he smiled. The sight of Winterfell’s master-at-arms filled him with genuine joy and chased away temporarily his darker thoughts. The men had been closing the castle gates for the night even as Ned approached. He’d galloped his horse the last few leagues in order to make it home by nightfall. _Home. This is not my home_ _anymore._ One of the men atop the gates had actually shouted down at what likely appeared to him a solitary, bedraggled stranger that he should return on the morrow, but Ser Rodrik had happened to be upon the wall and recognized him.

Now Rodrik Cassel grabbed him as he might a long lost son. “Eddard, my lad! We had no word you were coming! Gods, it’s good to see you, my boy!”

“It is good to see you as well, Ser Rodrik,” Ned said, returning the man’s embrace. “I have been too long away from the North.”

Ser Rodrik snorted in agreement. “We feared you’d never come back. Lord Brandon japed that you’d let some hot blooded southron lass steal your heart and keep you in the south forever!”

 _My heart does belong to a southron lass, but she’s right here behind these walls._ “No. I fear I’ve found little in the south that appeals to me, Ser Rodrik. I’m too much a Northman, I suppose.”

“Does that mean you’ll be staying?”

Ned sighed. “I fear not. The king still has need of me. But I’ve been too long away from Jon, and I shall stay for at least a moon’s turn. I don’t want him to think I’ve forgotten him. I don’t suppose there’s any chance he’s still awake?” Ned asked hopefully.

“I’m afraid not. Lady Catelyn is pretty strict with her two boys when it comes to bedtime. They’ve tried her a great deal more since the sun stays up so late, but I fear they’re no match for her,” Ser Rodrik said with a smile.

 _Her two boys._ The thought of Catelyn treating Jon as one of her own threatened to break Ned’s heart even as it gladdened it. She had promised him she would care for him.

“Well, I’ll be a surprise for him on the morrow then,” Ned said. “I’ll just put my horse up, and go see if Brandon’s given away my old rooms.”

“Your rooms are the same as they ever were. But I’ll put the horse up. You’ll go to the kitchen and get something to eat. Lady Catelyn’s there going over something with the cooks. She’ll never forgive me if I send you off to bed hungry.”

 _Catelyn._ Ned had heard little else the man said as soon as he realized he was being sent to Catelyn. He wanted to run to the kitchens and also to run back out the gate. _How am I to look upon her and not take her in my arms?_ He wished that what he felt for her had lessened in their time apart, but it had not. He lived a fairly solitary life in King’s Landing, and thoughts of her filled his mind with alarming frequency. He wondered if Brandon and the children filled Catelyn’s mind to the point that she had been able to banish him from her thoughts.

He could not avoid her in Winterfell. He supposed it might be best to see her now and be done with it. As he walked toward the kitchens, it occurred to him that he hadn’t even asked Ser Rodrik about his brother, and he wondered guiltily if Ser Rodrik had thought ill of him for it. He did want to see Brandon. But, gods forgive him, he did not want to see him with Catelyn.

“This can’t possibly be right, Ella.” He heard her voice, clear and crisp, coming from the kitchen before he entered it, and when he reached the doorway, he stopped at the sight of her long hair flowing loosely down her back as she stood facing away from him addressing two of the cooks. “There was three times this amount of flour only a week ago, and we haven’t all been eating twenty breadrolls a day!” She sounded exasperated. “Have the boy inventory it again tomorrow, or better yet, inventory it yourself. If you come up with the same amount, come and find me, and we shall go through the stores together. Now, about the wine. Lord Manderly has …”

Catelyn stopped speaking abruptly as one of the cooks gasped and she realized that both of them were staring right past her. Slowly, she turned around and Ned watched her hand fly to her mouth as she saw him. “Ned,” she breathed.

“My lady.” He hoped his voice wasn’t trembling because the sight of her face had gone through him like a dagger. _Gods, you are_ _beautiful._ He nearly said it aloud, swallowing hard before managing, “Ser Rodrik sent me to beg food.”

She hadn’t moved or taken her eyes off him, but at his words she lowered her hand and addressed the cooks while still looking at him. “Prepare something for Lord Eddard,” she said. “He has come home.”

Her voice definitely trembled on the last word, and he had only to look at her eyes to see that she was as affected by his presence as he was by hers. He barely heard the cooks murmur their own welcomes before scurrying to fix him a plate.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said, walking toward him slowly. His eyes moved over her as she came toward him, and he noted with a shock the round fullness of her belly beneath her skirt. _Of course. Brandon wrote she was with child again._ She saw the direction of his eyes and put a hand over the rise of her abdomen. “I fear I grow big more quickly with each subsequent babe. I’m only five moons gone, and I know I’m as big as I was the day Robb was born.”

“You are beautiful,” he whispered, as she was close enough now that he could speak without the cooks hearing.

“Ned,” she said warningly under her breath, although the tears in her eyes told him she wished he could speak freely to her. “Sit down, my lord,” she said more loudly in a voice that was forcefully bright. “You must be tired after your journey.”

He pulled out a chair beside the plain wooden table against one wall, and she took a chair near enough for them to speak, but too far to allow them to touch easily. “Why did you not write us of your coming? I would have …we should have had a feast for you, Ned!”

“I don’t want a feast, Cat,” he said, and he saw her react to his use of her nickname. “I came to see Jon. I’ve been too long away from him.”

She nodded. “He is well. He has missed you, to be sure. But he and Robb are inseparable, and I do believe he is happy here.”

“Of course, he’s happy. He’s with you.”

“Ned,” she whispered again. He heard no warning in it this time, though. Only sorrow.

They sat silently then until Ella brought a plate for him and wine for both of them. The other cook had already gone, and Catelyn dismissed Ella, asking her if she could please have one of the chamber maids make certain Lord Eddard’s room was prepared and promising she would take care of the dishes.

Once they were truly alone, she said, “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“I didn’t want to come,” he said, and her face fell. “I mean, all I’ve wanted to do since I’ve left is come back to you, but as things are …I half dreaded it, Cat. If it weren’t for Jon …”

“No. You’re right.” She bit her lip. “But however much it pains me, I am glad to see you, Ned.” She reached out then and took his hand, and he could tell by the way she sighed that the same spark that had gone through him at the contact of their skin had gone through her as well. He held her hand in his only for a moment before pulling away.

“I think it unwise for us to be alone together, my lady,” he said then.

She nodded. “We’ll have the children about tomorrow, and Brandon should be home soon.”

“Home? Where has he gone?”

“Hunting.” The way she said it made it perfectly clear that she had little doubt that Brandon was not in the Wolfswood.

“Damn the man!” Ned said, suddenly angry at his brother. “You carry his child! Can he not control himself at all?”

“Don’t!” she gasped. “Yes. I carry his child, and I am sitting here with his brother wishing that you would take me in your arms and kiss me until I forget he exists! I have no right to be angry with Brandon!” She put her face in her hands then, and it took every ounce of strength Ned had not to go to her.

“You are nothing like Brandon, Cat. What passed between us …” He shook his head. “You are not Brandon. And he has no right to disregard you as he does.”

She shrugged slightly. “He has only been gone a moon’s turn this time.”

“A moon’s turn?” Ned asked indignantly. “And you with child? What is he thinking?”

“He’s not thinking,” she said with a bitter laugh. “He’s seeking relief for a stiff cock.”

He looked at her in disbelief. The man was wed to this beautiful woman. How could she not be enough for him?

She smiled sadly at his expression. He’d forgotten how easily she could read his face. No one in King’s Landing seemed able to do so. “He …he does not care for my body when it’s swollen with child,” she said, coloring slightly. “He will not come to my bed again until after this babe comes.”

 _My brother is the greatest fool in the Seven Kingdoms,_ Ned thought. Catelyn was beautiful when she carried children. He remembered very well how she’d looked when she’d carried Sansa, how she’d bloomed like a flower, and her face had seemed to glow more brightly as her breasts and belly swelled. He’d guiltily wondered then what she might look like out of her gowns, and he found himself wondering the same now. He’d give anything for the right to share her bed as she carried his child. _Carried my child …No, I cannot ask that. I can never ask that._

“For your sake, I wish my brother was a better man,” he said.

“Brandon is a good man,” she said quietly. “He just isn’t you.”

She sat quietly beside him then until he finished eating and walked with him to the Great Keep. “The boys get up with the sun, Ned. They’ll be wreaking havoc in the Great Hall at first light if you wish to see Jon,” she told him as they parted ways. He watched her walk down the corridor to her chambers and would have willingly given up the rest of his life just to follow her there this one night.

In spite of his exhaustion, he woke very early and made his way to the Great Hall as the day was just dawning. He sat down at one of the tables and waited. Within a half hour, he heard the unmistakable laughter of little boys and looked up to see Catelyn entering the Hall, holding two seven year old boys by the hands. She let loose of those hands as she entered the Hall, and the two boys began running down the aisle at top speed. He stood up to intercept them.

“I would expect my son to show more courtesy in the Great Hall,” he said as he knelt and caught a boy in each arm. “My nephew as well.”

Both boys looked up at him in surprise, and he smiled at them. Recognition bloomed on Jon’s face. “Father!” he shouted, throwing his arms around Ned’s neck. “You came back!”

“You grew so tall!” Ned answered, staring at the boy the world knew as his son. Where Catelyn would not have appeared changed to him at all were she not with child, Jon had changed dramatically. All the last vestiges of babyhood were gone. The five year old boy whose image he had held so tightly in his mind these last two years was now erased by a wiry seven year old who seemed all long, thin arms and legs. Even his face looked a bit thinner, although the grin was the same as he remembered and so were the grey eyes.

“I thought you might never come back, but Aunt Cat promised you would! She promised!” The little boy turned away from Ned then and ran back toward Catelyn who had come halfway to them. “It’s Father! It’s Father, Aunt Cat! He’s back!” He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward Ned, and she followed him, laughing.

The sight of the two of them together, such joy on both of their faces nearly struck Ned speechless. He stared at them, wanting to commit this image to his memory against the long, empty days and moons without them that lay ahead of him.

“Robb, it’s my father!” Jon shouted when he’d dragged Catelyn to them, and Catelyn laughed some more. It was so good to hear her truly laugh.

“You are quite a sensation, Ned,” she told him. “Normally, Robb is the noisier one. I don’t remember the last time Jon did quite so much shouting in the Hall.”

He smiled at her. “They have both grown so much,” he said.

“Children do,” she said. “Speaking of growing children, I must get back to the nursery for the girls. I trust you will keep the boys out of mischief?”

“I’ll do my best,” he said, watching the two jump up and down, Robb having now joined in Jon’s revelry.

He spent the better part of the next two hours in the company of both boys, regaling them with tales from King’s Landing and presenting them both with rather ornate wooden swords which thrilled them to no end. He had some other presents for Jon, but decided he’d wait to give those to him when and if he could ever separate him from his cousin. After allowing himself to be killed multiple times as a dragon, a White Walker, an evil knight, and an Ironborn reaver, he finally pled exhaustion and left the boys to their own devices, rubbing his arms as he walked away, fully aware he’d have any number of bruises from those wooden swords.

He hadn’t seen Catelyn since the Great Hall and wondered if she was still in the nursery. He knew he shouldn’t continually seek her out, but he wanted to see her. He wanted to see her daughters. _My daughter? No. I cannot think that._

He heard her singing before he reached the nursery door. He recalled her singing the same song to Sansa. He knocked softly on the door, and she called, “Come in!”

When he entered, he was stunned to see her sitting in a chair, the front laces of her gown undone and a small child with a head full of brown hair suckling vigorously at her teat. He stared at the two of them, speechless.

“Ned!” she gasped, her cheeks coloring. “I …I thought you were the septa!”

She fumbled at her gown, trying to cover herself, succeeding only in disturbing the little girl who immediately began wailing, and Ned was treated to the sight of Catelyn’s dark pink nipple, standing out straight from where the child had been sucking, and he felt a jolt of desire which shamed him.

The little girl, _Arya, her name is Arya,_ began thrashing and kicking so furiously that Catelyn was unable to do anything.

“Here,” Ned said. “Give her to me.”

Wordlessly, Catelyn stood up and handed her over and then modestly turned her back on him to secure the front of her dress. Ned looked down at the squalling child, and felt a shock of recognition. Her face looked just like Jon’s. _Just like mine. No! Just_ _like Brandon’s._ “Hello, little girl,” he said. “You shouldn’t beat on your poor mother like that. You look well fed enough to me.”

Surprisingly, she stopped screaming and regarded him with grey eyes that mirrored his own. Then she smiled at him and reached up to grab his nose. “No!” she squealed, but it was a happy squeal.

“Oh gods,” Catelyn said in a whisper, and Ned turned to look at her. “She means nose,” she said softly. “She only just learned that one.” She paused. “But she never smiles at anyone she doesn’t know.”

“Well, you must know me then. Isn’t that right, little Lady Arya?” Ned said, smiling at the child who laughed in response.

“Who’s this, Mother?”

Ned looked toward the corner of the room and noticed for the first time the little girl playing quietly there with two dolls. “My gods, Cat! This can’t be Sansa!”

“I’m afraid it is. She’s changed even more than the boys since you’ve been gone. Sansa, this your Uncle Ned. Say hello to him.”

The little miniature Catelyn came forward and gave an alarmingly graceful curtsy for a four year old child. “Pleased to meet you, Uncle Ned,” she said.

Ned shifted Arya to one arm and knelt down to take his niece’s hand and kiss it formally. “I am very pleased to see you, my lady,” he said with all the courtesy he could muster, and was rewarded by a high pitched, delighted giggle from the little girl. “He called me ‘my lady’, Mother, did you hear?”

“Yes, Sansa, I heard,” Catelyn said with a smile. She looked at Ned. “I can take her back, if you like. She gets heavy rather quickly, I’m afraid, although she’s usually clamoring to get down by now.”

“Can she walk?” Ned asked, surprisingly reluctant to let the child go.

Catelyn laughed. “Of course. She’s two moons past her first name day.” She sighed. “I know I need to wean her before this one comes, but I didn’t wean Robb or Sansa until they were two, and I hate cutting her time short.” She twisted her mouth wryly. “I fear that whoever said you cannot get a babe while you still have one on the teat was sadly mistaken.”

“Two moons past her first name day,” Ned whispered, looking again at the little girl he held.

Arya put her little hand against his beard then and rubbed it, laughing.

“Brandon is clean shaven. Likely she finds me quite strange,” he said.

“Brandon rarely picks her up,” Catelyn said in a resigned fashion. “She’s a girl, and while Sansa was a novelty, he’s after another son now. I hope this one is a boy.” She rubbed her belly.

“She’s perfect, Cat,” he said.

“I know that, Ned,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t change a thing about her.”

He met her eyes then, the question burning within him, but he couldn’t ask it. He couldn’t. Arya squirmed in his arms, and he set her down.

“Mama!” she cried and toddled toward Catelyn who scooped her up easily enough in spite of her swollen belly, covering her little face in kisses until she squirmed to be put down again.

She turned then and grinned at Ned. “Papa!” she squealed and toddled back into his arms. Ned didn’t smile or kiss her then. He stood as if frozen in place.

“She calls all men that,” Catelyn said, although her voice sounded choked. “It’s the only word she knows right now for a man.”

Slowly, Ned raised his eyes from the little girl who smiled up at him—the little girl with his face—and looked at Catelyn. He couldn’t ask it. He had no right to ask it, but the question was there in his eyes as they met hers.

Catelyn didn’t look away from him. “Yes,” she breathed. “Of course she is. You know she is.”

Ned felt as if his heart had been opened up wide. _A child. My child. My daughter._ He stared at Arya and thought that he had never seen anything quite so miraculous in his life.

“What’s wrong, Mother?” he heard Sansa ask.

He looked up to see tears falling silently down Catelyn’s cheeks.

“Nothing, sweetling,” Catelyn answered, beckoning her daughter to her for a reassuring hug. “Sometimes people cry when they are happy. And I am happy to see your Uncle Ned home safe.”

The little girl frowned at that. “I only cry if I get hurt. Or when Robb and Jon won’t play with me,” she said.

Catelyn didn’t answer her then. She simply stared at Ned kneeling on the floor with Arya. Silently, Ned picked his daughter up and walked toward Catelyn, wanting to hold them both—the woman he loved and the daughter they had made together. She didn’t speak or move to stop him. She simply extended her hand toward him.

Just as he reached her, though, the horn at the gate gave a long, loud blast. Nearly at the same time, Robb, followed closely by Jon, burst into the nursery.

“Mother!” Robb shouted excitedly. “Father is home! Come down! He’ll be here any minute!”

Robb turned immediately to race back down the corridor and out of the Keep, but Jon stayed to grab Ned’s arm. “Come on, Father!” he said. “Let’s go see Uncle Brandon!”

Ned looked back at Catelyn to see that her face had gone ashen. She’d dropped her hand and backed away from him. “I …I must go down and welcome my lord husband home,” she said, sounding more desolate than he’d heard her since his return to Winterfell.” She took a deep breath as if steadying herself. “Come, Sansa,” she said, “Let’s go and greet your father.” Turning back to Ned, she met his eyes and said resolutely, “I must take Arya now, Ned.”

It felt as if he were ripping out his own soul as he handed the little girl to Catelyn. He watched her walk slowly from the room with her head held high, carrying Arya on one hip while using her free hand to hold Sansa’s.

“Come on, Father!” Jon said urgently.

So, Ned Stark went down into the courtyard of Winterfell to greet his brother, and he prayed that the gods might forgive him the envy in his heart. He prayed that the gods would make him strong enough to walk away from the woman he must not love and the daughter he must not claim.


End file.
